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... ough he was the real culprit, there was nothing he could do.


He sighed.


“Why isn’t the police here yet?”


“I’m Innocent!” he muttered.


Little did they know that in the eyes of others, he was like a Buddha that had walked out of a Buddhist stone painting.


He was just a little evil.


But he was also solemn, holy, and solemn.


Black lotuses bloomed under his feet.


Black fog lingered above his head.


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